


to be by your side

by duesternis



Series: held by you [2]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, I love them so much, M/M, Morning Kisses, Nightmares, Post-Canon Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, only more comfort though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis
Summary: Henry’s nose crinkled as his smile deepened and Harry’s heart did a peculiar thing in his chest. A kind of skipping jump.Not wholly unpleasant whenever that happened.
Relationships: Henry Collins/Harry D. S. Goodsir
Series: held by you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800478
Comments: 13
Kudos: 30





	to be by your side

**Author's Note:**

> title from the thus named song by Nick Cave, a personal favourite.

It wasn’t the first time this week that Harry was sitting a quiet vigil at Henry’s bedside.  
The nightmares – terrors, really, but they both shied from that word, like children – had him firmly in hand this time.  
Terrible, how they were capable of removing strong and stout Henry Collins from his usual self, making him nothing but a shaking, sweating, nervous mess.

Harry was keeping watch over the restless sleep of his dearest friend, ready to rouse him, should it become apparent that Henry was quite lost to the dreams.  
The lamp on the bedside table bathed the small room in its dim glow; bathed Henry in shades of gold.  
The tumble of his black curls against the white linens was exquisite. And if it weren’t for the exhaustion drawing deep circles under even the closed eyes, then Harry would lie down next to Henry in his bed and kiss him senseless.  
Henry was so fond of being kissed and Harry so liked to kiss him.

Tonight he would simply sit here, though, and watch over Henry’s sleep.  
Hold his hand, stroke his temple and maybe hold him in his embrace, if he woke from a dream shaking and quite helpless.

Henry’s hand twitched against the sheets and Harry gently stroked the thick hair on the back of it, brow drawn in worry.  
"I’m here, dear. I’m right here."  
Henry’s eyes opened wide suddenly, the whites of his eyes startling in the dim light. He was breathing heavily, hands twisted into the sheets, and Harry tried not to think of David Young.  
Instead he gently sat down on the edge of the mattress and covered Henry’s hands with his own until they stopped looking quite so much like claws.

"I’m here, Henry, talk to me. What do you see?"  
"Nothing. It’s all dark and blue. No ice, no light, no ships around. I’m lost at sea. Lost at sea in the cold."  
His voice came in bursts, breath hot on its heels. His eyes were still unseeing, the pupils blown and the whites eerily pronounced.  
Harry shifted closer to Henry, one hand on the side of his face.  
They were both shaking.  
"Henry. Henry, come back to me. You’re not lost. I have you. It’s not dark. There is light. I see you. Come and breathe."

Henry blinked, shook and shivered violently for a moment.  
Blinked again and finally he gave a huge inhale, hands shooting out to cradle Harry against his broad chest.  
He buried his sweaty face in the crook of Harry’s shoulder, breathing wetly against the shirt there. Or maybe crying.  
Harry simply stroked his strong back, quivering as it was, and waited.  
Waited until Henry had calmed himself enough to lie back down, still holding on to Harry’s hand.

"Stay," Henry whispered, voice thick with tears and sleep.  
"I promise, Henry. I won’t leave you, I promise. When you wake in the morning I’ll be right here, waiting for you."  
Henry nodded, licked his lips and drank deeply from the glass of water by the lamp. Then he turned on his side, half looking at the lamp and half at Harry.  
Like that he fell asleep a second time that night.

Morning found Harry dozing in his chair, feet propped up on Henry’s bed and Henry looking at him, smiling softly.  
His hair hung rakishly over one eye and Harry blinked after a yawn. His spectacles were uncomfortably crooked on his face and he took them off.  
Henry’s nose crinkled as his smile deepened and Harry’s heart did a peculiar thing in his chest. A kind of skipping jump.  
Not wholly unpleasant whenever that happened.

"Your hair is very long now."  
"Not as long as the Captain’s."  
"Crozier?"  
Henry laughed, such a dear sound that they all heard not often enough.  
"I mean Fitzjames, of course."  
"Ah. Yes, of course. I doubt Captain Crozier has the thickness of hair for anything longer than his current style, I do believe. It’s remarkable, though, how well Fitzjames‘ hair recovered from the sickness. Last I saw him it was shining more than ever."

Henry chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows, sheets pooling in his lap.  
"Aye, I recall. Dress uniform and that shining cap of hair. He looked finer than ever. Veritably glowing."  
"I do believe he is indeed very happy in London. Healthy again and with fine company."  
Henry looked at him then and Harry put his feet on the floor, feeling his cheeks pinken under his beard.  
He surely hadn’t meant to imply anything, but Henry’s heavy, dark gaze made it hard to interpret his words any other way.  
"Did you get some rest after all, then?"  
A poor diversion, but Henry was always faithful when it came to those: Truthful and sure to cut Harry some slack.

"Some. Thanks to you, Doctor. Your presence keeps it at bay."  
"Nonsense, Henry. I am, however, glad to assist you in any way that we both find works. Sitting with you and keeping you company through the worst of it is the least I can do for you."  
They reached for each other’s hands and sat like that for a long moment, the sun fully rising outside and Edinburgh coming awake truely.  
The house around them did the same.

Harry’s niece and the nephews barrelling down the stairs, their Nanny rushing after them. A moment later John and his wife.  
Clara’s clear voice rang from downstairs in a laugh.  
Probably the children and their antics.  
"Do you feel up for breakfast with the family, or should we take it in the upstairs parlour?"

Unofficially their parlour. Where they had their infrequent guests and meetings that were just as often morose and solemn as they were quite the opposite, with many tears shed in laughter.  
"I can’t take the noise so early, Harry. But don’t let me keep you."  
Henry’s callouses were warm and tough against Harry’s skin and he felt quite soft in comparison. The difference between a horse bred for heavy work and one bred for a Lady’s ride.  
"I would like you to keep me," he said with a twisting smile, covering Henry’s big hand with his free hand, squeezing it warmly.  
Then his cheeks flushed with what he had just said.

Henry smiled, his own cheeks quite red, and blew the lock of hair out of his face. It resettled along his brow, giving him an entirely different kind of rakish air.  
Harry laughed self-consciously and then leaned forward on a whim.  
Henry surged forward and they kissed.

The sun knocked on the window, the lamp was still flickering faintly and Harry buried his hands in Henry’s thick curls.  
The strong hands he loved so well pulled him flush against Henry’s chest again and the almost sleepless night caught up with Harry.  
Everything felt quite dreamlike, woozy and soft.  
He sighed into Henry’s open mouth and settled into the embrace; kissed himself hungry and then fed on Henry’s lips until he was sated once more.

It was delightful how Henry moaned under Harry’s kisses, breathing deeply but shakily, hands forever roaming over the back of Harry’s waistcoat and his arms.  
After a small eternity they parted.  
Panted, foreheads resting against each other and Harry still had his hands in Henry’s hair.  
Henry’s palms were hot and heavy on Harry’s waist.  
"Breakfast, dear man?"

Henry laughed and Harry kissed his laughing mouth. Licked into it, just to feel the gasp against his tongue.  
Then he leaned back, still smiling.  
"I’ll need a nap before lunch. Will you mind?"  
"I won’t mind. My brother’s waiting for a letter from me. I’ll write that while you nap."  
Harry smiled and clambered out of Henry’s lap.  
"I’ll ask Clara to set breakfast for us in the parlour. You get dressed, Henry. I wouldn’t want you to catch a draft."  
He collected his jacket from the back of his vigil chair and turned off the lamp, sun streaking the room with warm stripes of light.

The door was already half closed when he looked back at Henry and found him standing nude by the chest of drawers. The sun painted a golden blaze over his back.  
Harry smiled, fiddled with his jacket and closed the door.  
His handsome man.

Maybe they could nap together before lunch. Lock the door to the parlour and curl up on the couch.  
Or maybe Henry would sit and write and let Harry rest his head on his strong thigh.

Which, really, was just as well.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe leave a comment if you came this far <3


End file.
